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Page 318
"Perhaps you are right," Alinor said, "but there are at least two others who are not clever enough to associate your death with the king's tax and who probably believe that the king would not be sorry to hear that you had died of trying to breathe through holes in your carcass."
After which, she drew forth a marvelous thing that had once been Simon's, a shirt of mail with links so thin and fine that it bulked scarce larger than a woolen tunic. It would not turn a sword blow, but under a man's tunic, it would give fair protection from the thrust of a knife. From then on Ian wore it when he went abroad without armor, and Alinor breathed a little easier. However, the precaution was not necessary. Fulk de Cantelu and Henry of Cornhill looked daggers at Ian but drew none with their hands.
On Christmas Eve, Alinor and Ian again appeared dressed as two halves of a whole. It was a day for magnificence, and they were as grand and bejeweled as the greatest lords of the land. It was just as well they had made the effort, because soon after they entered the great hall, a page came running up with a message that places had been set for them at the first table before the dais.
"By whose order?" Ian asked sharply.
"The king's, my lord," the page replied.
"He does me great honor," Ian responded automatically, feeling Alinor's grip tighten so hard that her nails bit into his wrist.
It was far too great an honor. Ian de Vipont was a baron, but there were many with higher titles who should sit closer to the king in the hall by the order of precedence. In spite of their knowledge of John's character, Alinor and Ian had had some hopes that Salisbury's persuasions had induced the king to take the fine and content himself with that, at least for the present. This mark of favor ended that hope. John might swallow his spite enough to ignore them; he

 
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